


Here We Go Again

by baruffio



Series: Home Front [2]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Let's do the time warp again!, M/M, Sad with Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 08:36:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21455131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baruffio/pseuds/baruffio
Summary: Wade's brain sputters online abruptly and chaotically. It takes a moment to get oriented and pop back up to his feet, and then there's a scream in the distance and Wade spots Spider-Man carting that chick down the main street again.Wait, what?--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------This is the companion piece for Home Front. The end of the story will not be posted until Home Front is finished for spoiler reasons.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Home Front [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1454500
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	1. (1)

Wade's brain sputters online abruptly and chaotically, but hey, he didn't shit his pants dying this time, so them's the winnings!

It takes a moment to get oriented and pop back up to his feet, and then there's a scream in the distance and Wade spots Spider-Man carting a chick down the main street. That's new.

A good wiggle lets Wade know where all the dry, crusty bits are on his uniform. Definitely a head injury, some stabby wounds, and if the way the fabric on his leg is twisted wrong is anything to go by, probably a dislocated or broken leg. The question being who the fuck attacked him in the middle of the afternoon on a beautiful NY summer day.

Wade straightens out his suit around his crotch, cupping to check in on the jewels, and stalks the perimeter for clues. Sitting like a present on top of a dumpster is Cable's time travel bracelet. Wade snags it and sweeps the rest of the area, but the only other thing of note are two of his bullet shells, lying a believable distance for a double gunshot to his head from where he died. 

"Weird," he pronounces to the alleyway. "Time to solve this the old-fashioned way."

He slaps the time travel watch onto his arm and kicks it back a half hour. 

About-to-die Deadpool's hand descends for his gun and turns to pivot, and Wade reacts automatically. Two gunshots and a katana later, Wade is looking down at a deceased Deadpool. 

"Huh," Wade says. He retrieves his katana from his corpse.

"Twitchy motherfucker," Wade muses. "Sorry, buddy. Shoulda come sooner." He stretches his shoulders and leaps up for the edge of a fire escape. It takes a moment to clamber up to the landing, and Wade pops a squat on the stairs. He still has a twisted leg and time turner to account for. Who even leaves a freaking gift next to a corpse? Wade peers over the edge of the fire escape. Dead-Deadpool is already twitching back online.

"That's my boy!" Wade croons. He throws himself over the edge of the fire escape and manages a flip before landing. He stumbles on the connection and trips over dead-Deadpool's legs. He's shoving his way free when one of the legs nudges him, and--

"Oops," Wade says unapologetically. He might have reflexively stabbed his reanimating corpse. A closer look makes him laugh. 

"I double homicide myself," he snorts. Everything is looking like his current suit: the globs of blood on the suit collar and peppering the chest, the twisted fabric on the leg, the time traveling tech...wait, that's still in his hand. 

Wade unwraps the watch and tosses it onto the dumpster. It lands exactly as he had originally found it and vanishes into thin air.

"Good enough for me," Wade shrugs. He turns to stab his freshly dead body once more just cause hey, that’s not something a guy can do every day, but that’s also vanished. It’s pretty wack, but time travels wack, so it checks out. Wade sets a course to Weasel’s. 

Ol' J's is publically busting a nut over Spider-Man on the jumbotron again, and Wade is set to ignore it because, really, that kid being a menace is blatant yellow journalism, and it's the sort of thing that would make Wade mad if he cared one lick.

But then Jakey Gylll's face pops up on screen, and Wade has to stop to admire a bro. The video work is shoddy and staticy, but nothing can hide those baby blues. Nothing except, apparently, a yearbook photo of Peter Parker.

Oh, hot diggity duck, identity reveal! 

It takes another fifteen minutes for Wade to reach the bar, and by then, old Wade is becoming now Wade - now new old Wade - and going back to remurder old old Wade. It's enough of a headache that Wade wastes no time thinking of the dirtiest sounding drink to order and goes straight for the hard liquor. 

"Woah, what's got your panties in a twist?" Weasel asks, sliding a coaster under Wade's jug of rum.

"I got my own panties in a twist," Wade says. "I started a time loop and fuck me if I know how."

"Crazy shit happens to you," Weasel shrugs. "If it was to happen to anyone, I'd bet on you." He wipes down the bar with his filthy rag before throwing it into the laundry bag. "Go on and give the deets."

"I accidentally kill myself twice, go back to find out how, and accidentally kill myself twice." Wade chugs some rum. "I need a new job if I'm killing myself at this rate. What have you got?"

"There's a surge in the Spider-Man kill orders now that Mysterio’s revealed his identity. You could fill a few at once."

Wade shoots Weasel a murderous look. "You're offering jobs on good guys now?"

"Get with the times, man," Weasel says, and as Wade coils, he holds out placating hands. "A lot of stuff has come out about him. He's not the good kid we all thought."

"Kids aren't on hit lists," Wade says in a scalding tone. 

"And especially not Spider-Man," chirps an out-of-sight background character three stools down the bar. 

"Butt out, you," Weasel orders. He leans closer to Wade and lowers his voice. "Obviously I'm against killing kids, but Spider-Man just tried to use StarkTech to level London, so he definitely counts as the bad guy."

"Spider-Man?" Wade repeats, his voice pitching high in disbelief. 

"Yeah." Weasel crosses his arms smugly. 

"Once Spider-Man apologized for webbing me," the unsolicited background guy says. "If I had to be caught by anyone, I'd want it to be Spider-Man."

"Gross. Put your dick for Spider-Man up, dude," Weasel huffs. He rolls his eyes and his attention pops back to Wade. "I've got a Jersey job. A hit and run revenge. Perp got away scott free."

"We can't have any Scotts free, now can we?" It’s Wade’s Canadian X-Men solidarity or something shining through.

Wade throws down a handful of bills, grabs the card from Weasel, and calls up Dopinder for a ride. 

It takes two hours to get to Jersey with all the gridlock, but by eight, Wade has found and confirmed his target, and by ten, Wade is cramming 2k down his pants. There's something supremely satisfying about a quick job, and Wade treats himself to three bags of tacos 'cause he's feeling fine. He successfully pokes down the last taco before making a beeline. Fuck this metabolism: he's actively on the shitter for forty-five minutes straight. Worth it!

Sunday passes in a blur of binge-watching. Wade doesn't get up for food until the sweet hours of early evening. He finally peels off his stiff, holey suit, a process that results in several scabs flaking loose and falling to the floor like dandruff. He throws on sweats and a hoodie, snags a wallet, and clomps down the stairs in loud flipflops.

His go-to Chinese place is closed, so he recalibrates for a Little Caesars a few blocks away. Halfway there, a shadow looms up from behind him. The knife slides into his hand reflexively.

"Hello?" calls a squeaky, adolescent voice, and Wade groans.

"If that's Spider-fucking-Man," he rumbles as he turns. Peter Parker sheepishly waves Wade's wallet at him. Wade watches the kid's eyes narrow as he takes in the knife.

"You got a problem with me?" he snarls. Wade clinically takes in his red eyes and pale face.

"I've been hearing a lot of you recently," Wade says. "Too much." To his surprise, Peter crinkles a sad smile.

"Yeah. I agree with you on that." He steps forward, eyes dashing back and forth between Wade's knife and face. "You dropped your wallet a block back. I'll get out of your hair now." As soon as Wade takes his wallet, Peter scales the side of the building with quick and easy holds.

"Doubt it," Wade calls after him. There are too many Spider-Man mentions today for it to be coincidental. He’s definitely going to be hearing more about him soon.

He's proven absolutely correct when, while he's waiting for his pizza, a breaking news report relays that Spider-Man, aka Peter Parker, had murdered his guardian aunt and the handler that Tony Stark had sent to monitor him.

It doesn't compute with the pasty kid who brought him his wallet. Wade changes the channel. The Spider-Man updates remain resiliently unavoidable. 

On Monday, the NYPD add Peter Parker to the list of wanted persons. 

On Tuesday, Peter Parker's best friend, Ned, is reported missing.

On Wednesday, more footage is leaked of Spider-Man's exploits. 

On Thursday, there's shaky cell phone footage of Peter Parker raging in an abandoned warehouse.

On Friday, there are several reported sightings of Spider-Man cruising the streets.

Tuesday next, footage surfaced of Peter Parker fighting four uniformed men. 

Thursday next, Peter Parker is cornered in a sting operation. Wade can't not watch the footage of Peter weaving through a hailstorm of bullets, catching one in the knee, and going down hard under continuous fire. The footage is celebrated. Spider-Man is dead. 

There's no funeral, no family to turn the body over to, and the news cycles on to the next topic. Background guy invites Wade to a memorial ceremony, and Wade reckons that's the biggest testament to Peter Parker's character: the respect of those he hunted. Nice kid, sad story, the end.

Crime starts to spike, and Wade's rolling in dough with all the jobs coming in. It's only a matter of time before he catches another headshot from a freaking white-collar boob. 

Wade's brain sputters online abruptly and chaotically. It takes a moment to get oriented and pop back up to his feet, and then there's a scream in the distance and Wade spots Spider-Man carting that chick down the main street again.

Wait, what?

Fuck.


	2. (2)

Wade can prioritize sometimes, so he immediately heads to Julian Letit's office to return the friendly fire.

Letit is very confused when Deadpool waltzes into his office in full costume-- that's the Deadpool costume and a poorly fitting French maid outfit from Letit's funtimes work drawer. Wade doesn't waste much time in killing him. The fucker doesn't know what he will eventually do, and that honestly takes half the fun out of it.

As per usual, he makes his way towards Weasel's bar. He pauses at the door. What if he's already inside? That'd be really fucking neat.

Lo and behold, he's not inside until he gets inside. 

"What sort of shit time travel is this?" Wade pouts. He drops down on a stool. "Ay, Weasel!"

"Yes dear," Weasel singsongs back.

"Gimme a Dirty Whore's Bath Water."

"You want a job with that? There's been a surge in hits on--"

"Spider-Man," Wade supplies. "Take him off the list. We don't kill kids where I'm from."

"And especially not Spider-Man!" chirps the background guy from halfway around the bar. Wade turns to stare at him.

"Fuck off," Weasel says, all bark and no bite. He leans closer to Wade and lowers his voice. "Obviously I'm against killing kids, but Spider-Man just tried to use StarkTech to level London, so he definitely counts as the bad guy."

"Once Spider-Man apologized for webbing me," the background guy protests. "If I had to be caught by anyone, I'd want it to he Spider-Man."

"Gross. Put your dick for Spider-Man up, dude," Weasel huffs. He rolls his eyes and his attention pops back to Wade. "I've got another job. Jersey. A hit and run revenge. Perp got away scott free."

"Nah," Wade says. Weasel pushes a glass in front of him, and Wade rolls back his mask enough to take a swig. "You got any deja vu senses, Weasel?"

"Sometimes," Weasel shrugs, and he starts a long-winded story that Wade immediately tunes out. Weasel can make even an interesting story sound dull, and Weasel’s retelling of grocery shopping is a far cry from fascinating.

He heads home promptly after paying his bill. 

It's not pleasant to witness the downfall of a hero, so Wade fully intends to have a staycation until it all blows over. It's almost been a full week when DP runs out of TP. He throws on his sweats and hoodie with some urgency, only to open his door and find himself schnoz to schnoz with Spider-Man. 

"Hi," Spider-Man blurts. "You can't kill people."

Wade stares at him, totally bewildered. "What?"

"Mr. Letit--"

"Le Tit," Wade corrects automatically. 

"Let-it," Spider-Man corrects sternly. "You killed him." He stares squarely at Wade, letting his accusation rest between them.

"..and..?" Wade says.

"Don't do that!"

"Look, kid, now's not a good time--"

"It's never a good time to murder," Spider-Man insists. Wade pushes to get past him, but Spider-Man is immovable. 

"Look, Petey, I am about to blow up this joint if you don't let me out."

Spider-Man scurries backwards. "Why are you like this?"

Wade opts to avoid the obvious meaning of the question. "I'm just a procrastinator at heart."

"Procrastination doesn't make anyone violent," Spider-Man huffs and woah there, Spidey is following Wade down the stairs from the ceiling. A little creepy but hella rad. 

"Why are you here?" Wade asks. "You're not working."

"What else am I supposed to do?" Spider-Man asks bitterly. He flips off of the ceiling when they get to the landing. Wade is horrified to hear his voice fluctuate with brimming tears.

"You go away," Wade says in disbelief. "The city fucks you up, you don't come back and tidy it." 

"I KNOW!" Spider-Man turns away, embarrassed by his outburst. 

"Also," Wade continues, "don't turn your back on people after confronting them about murder. Jesus, you're bad at this."

Spider-Man doesn't say anything. He quietly follows Wade down to Rite-Aid and stands outside the bathroom door while Wade destroys their toilet. That metabolism though.

It's not until they're on their way back, Wade slinging bags of TP, that Spider-Man starts again.

"Back in the apartment, when you said, 'blow up'..." He trails off delicately, and Wade lets him simmer in it for several seconds.

"I was talking about things getting shitty," he confirms. Spider-Man makes this fucking weird noise that's relieved and giggly and disapproving and broken and mischevious. 

"You're too much," he says like an old geezer, and Wade shoulder checks him into a trashcan. "Hey!"

Spider-Man catches the lid before it falls and jogs a few strides to catch up with Wade.

"You're not invited to my apartment," Wade informs him, and Spider-Man sobers up quickly.

"Ah, right. I came to talk to you about the murdering."

"Apparently," Wade says.

"You can't keep murdering people."

"Is this about Le Tit? I promise I won't murder him again." Wade offers a pinky while crossing his fingers on the grocery bag. He doesn't know what's going on with time, so he might need to hedge the promise.

"Letit," Spider-Man corrects automatically. He looks at Wade's proffered pinky with clear skepticism. "There are no crimes that can be traced back to you."

Damn straight there aren't. "Then how did you find me?" 

Spider-Man laughs once, miserably, and aw hell no, why is Wade's heart twisting? "My Peter tingle."

Wade is not going to ask, he's not going to ask, he's not going to-- "That's what you call it?"

Spider-Man rips off his mask and starts sobbing uncontrollably in the street.

"Fucking hell," Wade says. "Come on, Petey, not out here. You're going to ruin my branding."

Peter is gasping for breath in the midst of his sobs. His thin frame is rattling hard. 

"Aww shit," Wade says. He pats Peter's back roughly, catching him in the ear with the plastic of the bags, and Peter, the ungrateful dickwad, has the audacity to start crying harder. "Look, I'm trying my best!"

"Don't kill people!" Peter gasps. "You aren't supposed to kill."

"Okay," Wade says placatingly. Fuck, the teenagers in his movie would never pull this sort of shit. He hooks the Rite-Aid bags to his belt and guides Peter up to his apartment, bags of TP slapping his diarrhea-tender butt with every step.

He dumps Peter on the armchair and fills a glass of water in the bathroom. He glowers at his reflection.

"Yeah, shit-for-brains, might as well start a school with all these fucking kids."

He stomps out of the bathroom and slams the glass of water on the floor next to Peter. He's shocked into sniffles.

Wade straightens back up to his full height. "Do you have a place to stay?"

Peter flushes and stares down at his mask. 

"That's a no. Have you been eating?"

Peter's blush spreads down his neck and disappears into his collar.

"Kid, I'm not going to take care of you," Wade says, half-warning, half-self-reminder. "You can crash tonight, but you need to be thinking about your next step."

Peter's head whisks up and he stares open-mouthed at Wade with watery eyes. "What? No! I'm not staying with you! You're a murderer!" His eyes dart over Wade’s shoulders to his collection of rifles, which are each suspended against the wall by their slings and knives.

"Yeah? You're wanted."

"I'm framed. You actually murder people."

Wade rolls his eyes and puffs out a supercilious  _ bah.  _ "Semantics!" He throws his hands up dramatically and makes his way to the fridge.

"Yeah. With the semantics meaning you're actually killing and I'm not! That's kinda my whole point."

"You're scared?" Wade taunts. He digs up a couple of frozen pizzas, tosses them in the oven, and turns the oven on as an afterthought. Eh, they'll cook eventually. 

"No!" Peter calls from the depths of the armchair. He’s really sinking into the cushion. 

"You can web me up for the night, Spider-Boy," Wade calls back. 

"I'm not scared," Peter insists. "I just don't understand why you killed Letit."

"I owed him one. Le Tit for le tat."

Peter isn’t able to fully hide his laugh. He recovers quickly though. "Who did he kill?"

"Me."

"Oh my gosh, Deadpool, I'm serious."

"I am too." Wade trounces back to the armchair with a hard cider. "Shot me in the head. That was before the time travel, so it hasn't happened yet. It's preemptive revenge." He plops down on the armrest. 

Peter leaps to perch on the other arm. "You're crazy."

Wade beams back. "You're right." He looks at Peter's protruding knee and draws in a tight breath. "This week the police plan a sting operation. They kill you."

"Why are you saying that?"

"You're just a kid. It wasn't right. Isn't alright. Fucking time travel."

Peter stares at him in alarm. "How did you time travel?" he asks in a carefully neutral tone.

"With a time travel machine, Einstein," Wade retorts.

"Do you still have it?"

Wade stiffens with sudden understanding. "Your auntie died in this round too?"

Peter nods. His face looks numb but desparate.

"It's with my corpse in a time loop. You're not bringing her back, kiddo."

Peter slumps off the armrest and stands, hollow eyed, between Deadpool and the door. "I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. I don't know what's right any more."

"You decide all that," Wade says. "Except the shit about what's right. To each his own and fuck off if you think otherwise."

"Oh, so stealing money is right?"

"Not to go literary on your ass, but you have seen Robin Hood: Fox in Tights, yeah?"

"Men in Tights," Peter corrects. "You're thinking of the Disney fox one."

"Not The Fox and the Hound," Wade says dismissively. 

Peter's eyes sharpen. "You're not going to distract me on this!" He looks spectacularly pleased to remember the main thread of their conversation. They quibble about morality--Peter is shaken by Wade pointing out that Peter tracking him down for Le Tit’s murder only happened because Le Tit had some serious money-- until Peter smells the pizza burning, and then Wade has to peel the crust from the baking rack while Peter berates him for not using a baking tray. 

Wade scarfs down half a pizza without thinking about it. Peter finishes his pizza in about the same time and keeps giving Wade's slices wide puppy eyes. Wade shoves the rest of his pizza at Peter and declares that he's going to bed. He doesn't have any jizz-free blankets to give Peter, so he offers him a trenchcoat and heads to bed. Chivalry making a comeback!

The next morning, the trenchcoat is folded on the armchair and Peter is gone.

Wade turns on the television and sees a report about the dastardly Spider-Man harassing and stalking an unknown burn victim. 

"The fuck?" he muses, peering closer at the shoddy security footage from Rite Aid. It's comical how closely Spider-Man watches him carefully chose his three-ply. Spider-Man's tense body language didn't convey well in the gritty footage, and with how hard Wade was ignoring him, it does look stalkery.

"Kid can't catch a break," he says, and he flips the channel until he finds some reruns and a reprieve from the Spider-Man speculation. 

Another week comes and goes with zero new Spider-Man footage. Wade feels pretty good about putting Peter on the not-getting-murdered track and decides to celebrate with a new job. 

This one requires him to catch a ride to DC and pay an ambassador a visit. The ambassador is super skeevy, but it's not until he uncovers the sex trafficking scandal that the blood lust swells.

Madam Torion is a begger, which is the lamest of the victim types. Wade ties her to a chair to terrify her, releases her for the thrill of the chase, and is just firing when Peter fucking Parker fucking jumps in fucking front of the fucking bullet.

Wade howls and shoots Torion through the throat just to end her shrill screaming.

"You fucking idiot!" Wade rants, yanking Peter up by the collar of his shirt to see the damage. "Shitting cuntbag! Fucking shit."

Peter holds his stomach and glares back fiercely. "We talked about this," he says sternly. His mouth is wet with blood. "No killing."

"Yeah, and I disagreed!" Wade shouts. He's so angry, he's ready to shake out of his skin. He was supposed to have saved the kid, not be the hand that kills him. 

"Please?" Peter asks in a voice that is so fucking pure despite the ragged breathing. Wade drops Peter's shirt and Peter promptly collapses to the ground with an involuntary cry of pain. 

"No fucking way!" Wade roars.

He stares down at Peter. There's no way to save him, not with that amount of blood. Wade feels murderous, and he's got a dying kid on his hands. Not an ideal combo. No shit, Cumberbitch.

"Where do you want to go?" he finally asks gruffly.

Peter's looks up at him with those stupid wide eyes. "Outside."

Wade carries Peter to the rooftop and talks to him until dawn. Then he burns the body, goes home, and turns off his mind using the tried and true bullet method.

Wade's brain sputters online abruptly and chaotically. It takes a moment to get oriented and pop back up to his feet, and then there's a scream in the distance and Wade spots Spider-Man carting that chick down the main street.

Wade fixes his nuts and runs after him.


End file.
